


Between

by darlingargents



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Tenderness, thigh kink, thigh worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: Richie has always had a thing for Eddie’s thighs.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 182
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).



Richie has always had a thing for Eddie’s thighs.

Blame overexposure or bullshit puberty hormones or just the fact that Eddie liked to torment him by wearing those stupid shorts from May to September every year without fail. Add the cuddling in the hammock (and all the times he had to relinquish it to keep Eddie from noticing that he’d popped a boner) and, well. It makes sense.

He just likes that he can _tell_ Eddie about it, now that they’re together.

( _Together_. He’s never going to stop thinking about that word and everything that it encompasses. How he and Eddie are best friends like they’ve always been, but now they get to make out and touch each other’s dicks sometimes. And he doesn’t have to be afraid of Eddie finding out his worst secret, because Eddie knows — and he still cares. Still wants to be _together_.)

It had started as a joke, really, when they’d been walking home from school, in the part of their walk where no one else was with them, so they could say whatever but still not touch except to fistbump or high-five.

“You know, Eds,” Richie had said, glancing down at Eddie’s legs, “your thighs are cute.”

“My — what?” Eddie looked down at his legs in surprise, and pinched one thigh. “These? Really?”

“I mean, you definitely have scrawny chicken legs—”

“You’re a dick—”

“But I don’t know. Those shorts are adorable. They show off your ass and thighs.”

Eddie went red — they’d probably been together about a month, and Eddie still wasn’t used to genuine compliments (though to be fair, neither was Richie) — and shook his head. “Sure. You have bad taste.”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty obvious, considering that we’re dating—”

“Fuck _off—_ ”

And then Eddie had shoved him and he’d laughed and they’d said their goodbyes in front of Eddie’s place, and three hours later Richie had snuck through his window so they could make out quietly while Mrs. K watched TV a couple rooms over.

When he’d been about to leave, Richie had paused on the windowsill and said, “I’ll dream about your cute little thighs, honeybun.”

“Fuck off!” Eddie had said, and laughed just a little too loud.

“Eddiebear?” Mrs. K had called, and Eddie had jumped, looking back at the door guiltily. Richie had taken the clue and ducked out the window.

He’d thought about it the whole way home.

And it’s been a month since then, and he’s still thinking about it. They’re on a date — or, well, Richie’s parents are out for the night so they’re watching a movie in the basement, Richie’s head in Eddie’s lap while Eddie pets his hair absentmindedly. Richie is a fan of this, because Eddie petting his hair is probably the best feeling in the universe, and — well. His head is resting on Eddie’s thighs.

He’s still into that.

The movie credits start to scroll, Richie immediately forgets what movie they were watching, and sits up. “Hey, I was thinking about something,” he says, before he loses his nerve.

Eddie reaches up his arms in a stretch, yawning, and it’s so cute that Richie momentarily loses his train of thought. “What’s up?” Eddie asks.

“Um.” Richie may lose his nerve. “You know how actual sex is like, dangerous, a bit scary and we’ve decided we don’t want to try yet?”

“Yeah.” Eddie gives him a Look. He’s not entirely sure what it means. Richie pushes on.

“I was thinking, uh — we could try something else? But something kinda similar. Just to see if we like it.”

Eddie blinks at him, and then says, “Is it that thigh thing that you keep talking about?”

“I don’t _keep talking about it—_ ”

“Yes you do, and you keep staring at them, and don’t act like you only want to be in my lap so I can pet you—”

“I like the petting, you jerk, but — okay.” Richie sighs and scrubs his hands over his eyes. “I just mean. It wouldn’t be hard and it might be good. You know?”

Eddie eyes him cautiously. “Explain.”

*

Which is how they end up in Richie’s bedroom, both naked, and Richie, at least, feeling more nervous than he can ever remember feeling since the first time he kissed Eddie.

In Richie’s hand is a bottle of lavender scented lotion from his mother’s bathroom. Eddie is on his knees and elbows on the bed, and just the sight is enough to make Richie lose his entire mind, before he even thinks of what they’re about to do.

“Go ahead,” Eddie says, a little breathless, and Richie feels a bit thrilled at that, that Eddie is into it. He wants this — he really wants this — but he’d been worried that Eddie wouldn’t.

He squirts the lotion into his palm, and Eddie spreads his legs. Richie can see his dick, half-hard, and balls from between his legs, and even though it’s nowhere near the first time, it’s still thrilling on a million levels. That he gets to have this — that Eddie is letting him. Richie climbs up on the bed behind him, and rubs the lotion between his palms to warm it up before he starts to spread it on the insides of Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie inhales, sharply, as Richie’s hands move between his thighs and up. Richie wraps one hand loosely around Eddie’s dick, waits for Eddie to say no if he wants to, and continues when Eddie just keeps breathing. He strokes Eddie’s dick with his slick palm, marvelling at how familiar it already feels. He keeps going until Eddie’s fully hard and breathing more raggedly, head dropped to the mattress between his elbows.

“You good?” Richie asks, and Eddie bobs his head in a nod.

“Yeah,” he says, and Richie actually feels his dick twitch at how wrecked his voice sounds already. “Yeah, please.” He adjusts and closes his thighs tight.

Richie runs one hand down his own dick — already hard, just from the sight of Eddie’s ass and thighs, honestly — and lines himself up, resting his hands on the mattress on either side of Eddie. He guides the tip of his dick to Eddie’s slicked-up thighs, just under the tight muscles of his ass, and pushes in.

He exhales, sharp and painful, as his dick slides between the muscles of Eddie’s thighs, right below his ass. It’s tight and slick and feels goddamn perfect and Richie is honestly going to lose his mind. He tries not to gasp as he keeps sliding, all the way down to the base of his dick, the head of his cock bumping Eddie’s balls.

Eddie flexes his thighs around Richie’s dick and Richie laughs painfully. “You’re trying to kill me, Eds,” he says, feeling like his heart is going to burst from affection.

“Always,” Eddie says, breathily, like he’s enjoying this almost as much as Richie is.

Richie adjusts himself a little, takes a deep breath, and starts to thrust in and out. He watches the flex and stretch of Eddie’s thighs, the clenching of his ass as he gasps into the mattress. Eddie’s hands grasping and releasing the blanket below him. The little gasps every time Richie bottoms out. He wishes he could see Eddie’s face, the flush and the relaxation and the openness that he only gets to see during sex. Next time.

When Richie comes, it happens quickly and with the force of a truck hitting him — one moment Richie is thrusting all the way in, and the next he’s leaning over Eddie’s back, gasping, as his dick twitches and empties over Eddie’s thighs and stomach. He collapses over Eddie’s back and just breathes for a moment, wrung out, before Eddie snaps, “Hey, asshole, I’m trying to breathe here,” and squeezes Richie’s dick, still between his thighs, to prove his point.

Richie pulls out of Eddie’s thighs and flops onto the bed beside him. Eddie rolls over and Richie sees that he’s still hard.

“I’ll take care of that, just gimme a second,” he says, and takes off his glasses for a moment. They’re getting fogged up.

“You really liked that, huh?” Eddie says, and Richie can’t see it, but he can hear the fond smile in Eddie’s voice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Did you?”

“I’ll see how I feel after you blow me,” Eddie says, and Richie laughs. He’s recovered enough, so he tosses his glasses aside and adjusts himself to take Eddie’s dick into his mouth. He can see his own come splattered on Eddie’s dick and stomach and thighs, and can taste it in his mouth, which is way better than he ever would’ve imagined. (And the lotion, which is not great, but he pushes past that.) Eddie buries a hand in his hair as Richie sucks, and a couple minutes later Eddie gasps out a warning and Richie finishes him off with his hand.

Eddie pulls him up for a kiss, and Richie goes for it, not bothering to remind him that he just had Eddie’s dick in his mouth. Sometimes Eddie gets into the moment enough to forget the grossness of sex, and Richie lives for those moments.

Eddie lets him breathe after a few long moments of kissing, and lies back. Richie fumbles for his glasses and puts them back on, just to see Eddie for a moment. Post-sex Eddie: splattered in come and flushed and happy, that little smile on his face that he gets in these quiet little moments. It’s something that no one else gets to see. This is his — this is _theirs_ — alone.

“I loved it,” Eddie says, and reaches up to touch the side of Richie’s face, like they’re in a romance novel or something. Richie hates how much he loves it.

“Me too,” Richie says, and leans down to kiss him again.


End file.
